True as a Dial to the Sun
by Scribbler
Summary: Pre-canon. It's an unwritten rule of the playground: stick with your own kind and you won't get hurt. Little Anzu has a decision to make.


**Disclaimer****: **Loyally not mine.

**A/N****:** Written for Challenge #017 – 'Loyalty' at ygodrabble over on LiveJournal.

* * *

_**True as a Dial to the Sun **_

© Scribbler, October 2010

* * *

_Loyalty is still the same, whether it win or lose the game; true as a dial to the sun, although it be not shined upon._ – Samuel Butler.

* * *

It's an unwritten rule of the playground: stick with your own kind and you won't get hurt.

Actually, it's an unwritten rule everywhere, but in the playground it's especially important. Breaking away from your own kind is marking yourself out as different, and different is dangerous. Animals in the wild don't survive long if they're different. They stand out from the herd and predators notice them. Survival depends on fitting in and relying on your own kind to watch your back. Sticking together, that's the key.

In the wild it's easy, though. If you're a zebra, it's easy to tell who the other zebras are. Gazelles never get confused and think they're elephants. Giraffes recognise other giraffes without mistaking them for lions. Have you ever seen a hippo running with cheetahs? Or meerkats climbing trees to nest among vultures?

With humans it's more complicated. How can you tell which =is 'your kind' when all the clues to help you work it out are mixed up, stuffed in a hat, the hat is stuffed in a box, and you have to stick your hand in the box to choose while also worrying about the poisonous scorpions scurrying about in there? There's a chance you'll get it right and escape without injury, but it's slim.

Anzu could feel the weight of eyes on her as classmates rushed past. She went slowly, unwilling to reach the door. Outside she'd have to choose. She dragged on her shoes, willing the bell to ring before she got there. It didn't, of course.

The sun was warm. The teacher on break duty had her eyes closed and her face turned towards it. Anzu scanned the clusters of students. Several looked away when she caught their eyes. Others stared openly. They were interested to see what she'd do.

And then there were the girls. Her friends; Those Girls, as they were known. The girls all other girls wanted to be. They watched more intently than everyone else put together. What was she going to do? They were supposed to be her kind, but meeting their flint-eyed glares, she wondered how she could ever have thought that. They shared the same uniform, but just looking at them made her shiver. They were _different_. Or she was. She didn't belong with them.

Anzu sucked in her breath and turned away, though her mind was a gibbering wreck. What was she _doing_? Was she insane? Those Girls would make her life miserable. Nobody walked out on their clique. Nobody _dared_.

She neared the bench at the far edge of the playground. She could still stop. She hadn't signed her death warrant yet. Sure, the broken Gameboy still had to be replaced, but she could beg her mother for an advance on her allowance and pay it off in instalments. Money would be easier than this: sitting together openly, in public, where others could _see_ them…

Except _he_ hadn't stipulated that, had he? She had. Why? Because she obviously had an electrical imbalance in her brain.

Or maybe because she'd sensed he was more her kind than Those Girls, and making him understand that, instead of brushing her advances off as well-meaning pity, required an official declaration. You couldn't take it back with al many witnesses. He'd been hurt too many times by fakers and bullies to believe her when she said she wanted to be his friend. So here she was, allying herself with him in public.

He looked up in surprise. Not half as surprised as her when she opened her mouth.

"Hi, Yuugi. Can I sit with you?"

"Uh, sure." He hesitated, before holding out a brand new Gameboy. "Um, w-would you like to have another try at playing?"

She stared. Gulped. Nodded. "Sure."

* * *

_**Fin.**_

* * *

.


End file.
